Smokey

[Fallon]

”Friends?” It was not that she denied such a possible tie, or even that such a relationship that existed. More correctly it was just simply forming the connection between the two, ”Maybe, perhaps. I try not to… think too hard on the politics of Gods. Seems complicated.”

There was silence, ears prickling to the murmurs, her eyes growing clouded. Even the flames of the fire seemed to die down in response. No longer was there roaring, instead it let out a whimpering crackle. Thought consumed, her eyes retreating back down to the book, with that gentle drumming upon the throne. It vibrated in response, and gently slid away from Caelum’s own.

Home? Where is that?

The other hand however was occupied with the book. The finger drew a slash through the heart and key, an angry, throbbing black that cut through it all. The finger drew through it again, forming a cross. It was disheartening to know she could not apply such logic she preached into her own status. She was a traveller, a drifter, she knew that deep down that she simply did not belong.

”Vagabonds did not have homes when I last checked. Not a true home,” she paused, lowering the open book to the floor with a bitter taste forming upon her tongue, ”Unless you count and call the beating track and the open path home.” The back of her head pressed against the throne, her eyes looking away. They would betray her right now – if they had not done already - , the flickering as she passed through every single thought, all the memories that had come and gone, ”As far as I perceive I do not have a home. I know it contradicts what I have previously said.”

Or, at least that was what she felt.

She shook her head, the brow knitting together to create a troubled expression. That was the way it was, to keep on walking, to leave behind bonds that were made or to forcefully tear them asunder and shattered. Too long had such a nature been imbedded into her, forcefully nurtured by the ever changing scenes. Was she chasing something? Was she chasing the dream of finding somewhere to settle down? The flames danced, turning and licking gently at the air.

A solemn tone mumbled free, ”I don’t like this game anymore. Can you suggest... something else?”

[Caelum]

There were people who would claim that dreams were a lie. Yet whenever Caelum walked through these nightscapes of others he found truth uncovered like tombs forced from the soil of swamps. It was always a matter of keys, of finding the right one, of using the next, and unlocking and opening and unlocking again. In dreams what was dead had never died and what walked could still be crawling. He sat sideways on his throne, watching Fallon and her journal, listening to the mournful call of Nikali singing inside of him. It talked to him of all the tomorrows they had skipped over or stumbled right by on their aching, lonely road.

Not his. Not Fallon's. Theirs.

He stood up.

"Yes, I have a suggestion. In fact --" And here a smile splashed across his face. It was completely disarming, friendly and inviting, safe and beckoning as the hands that he thrust down at her. Fingers curled, gesturing, wanting her to take his hand or at the very least climb to her feet her own damned self and set that melancholy journal aside. "I already suggested it. Let's have a picnic. And..."

He trailed off and delivered a baleful glance to the mourning trees, their skeletal seeking scratching more than caressing this wintry piece of sky.

"Let's get rid of some of this, shall we? We need a riverbank and a blanket, some sunshine and some green shade. You make that while I build our basket. It's your dream so you can change it. Let me know if you need help. And tell me..."

He looked hard down at her, eyes narrowing as if the weight of every question ever offered up by man rested now upon his tongue.

"Cake or pie?"

[Fallon]

Fallon was taken aback by his sudden smile. Her entire form seemed to lean away in recoil, her brow cocked in bemusement to where exactly this had come from. For a moment she held it there, her head tilting to one side and then down to the gesturing. What was it he wanted? This feeling of acceptance and to take growing within? Lips parted for a moment, a lump forming in her throat as she tried to form words. And then pulled back. It was an unusual gesture, but also one she was familiar with doing herself in the past.

The extension of a hand, the promise of something even if it was only a small detail. A sign of a bond, closeness, a companion. But what was it Caelum wanted? Her eyes glanced over him, and then followed his gaze around the decaying scene. It was dark, a gloom in the winter indeed having laid grasp upon the land.

"I won't lie-" she snapped the book shut and set it down, "-you're a bit of a mirror. Always offering a hand to hold and a smile when needed. Gods, you're even extending the hand out to take in that moment of greyness and uncertainty." It was at that point she released a sigh and shook the expression away. With a glance up to him from beneath her brow and a curl of the lip she spoke with a tease, "Alright, you twisted my arm. You win."

She took the hand and let him pull her up to her feet. With a hand brushing off the black furs upon her shoulder she gave a final look around. Her eyes blinked, her brow pinching only slightly together as she gave a look about. Taking up the tobacco pipe, she pinched the mouthpiece between her lips and turned about. Winter was ending, or had come and gone. She was not quite sure, but it felt necessary to do. Blinking up to him when he asked his last question however cause her to only look upon him with perplexity, "Well... I prefer pie. You can do more with it. Plus... savoury pies."

There was a low hum before she began her thinking. It was her dream, thus it was up to her to change it. The only issue was the how to. The principle sounded hard after all. There was a pace, the turning of the scene within her mind as she thought quietly to herself, her lips quietly mumbling in concentration, "I... how do I... change a scene? Wait... I think I have an idea."

Hesitating she looked about at what she had, her brow once more pinching in concentration. Colour had to replace the muted hues, sun had to replace the night and the great oak had to grow leaves. For a moment she reached up to it, the dark gloved hands stroking upon it rough bark and then her gaze averted down to the fire, "It is mine and it is part of myself, thus it must be treated as such... It must be, burned out," Pulling away she hovered over the burning brazier, her gloved hand reaching down and clenching around the burning shards. Her gaze snapped up to Caelum, "You... might want to stand back. I don't want to burn you."

As the hand came out she looked upon the hissing flames come out from between her fingers, the white fire crackling across the black and revealing true colour. There was only a final nod to him and the the sparks being thrown up into the darkness. It crackled into flame, ripping through the icy cold of winter and shattering it. Splintering the scene cracked like glass, the glow of white racing down the splintered edges and tracing it down to the floor. There was a blink, the light chasing it away as the colours bloomed from the grey tones. Skin found its shades, the night sky snuffing out into a blinding daylight. Stones ripped out beneath her feet, the tangling roots of grass wheedling its way out.

Arm raising to shield her eyes from the glare, the coloured orbs gave a hesitant blink out. The oak tree stills stood tall, the white bloom and green leaves racing along its branches. For a moment she blinked, removing the pipe that she held within her mouth and turned her gaze to Caelum, "Like this?"